


Rock Bottom

by Do_not_careissa



Series: Star Sapphire Jason [4]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Anxiety, Batfamily (DCU), Bruce Wayne Has Issues, Bruce Wayne Tries, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Communicating, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Denial, Diary/Journal, Dramatic Irony, Gen, Guy has made a terrible mistake, Guy's singing, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Mental Health Issues, Mentioned Jason Todd, Star Sapphire Jason Todd, Therapy, not my child denial, thoughts about possible suicide or murder of another character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:21:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23157742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Do_not_careissa/pseuds/Do_not_careissa
Summary: In his endless search for Jason, Bruce has alienated and neglected those closest to him, casuing many to leave. As his family splinters even further he must ask himself, is it the person he loves or their memory? Jason could return tomorrow, could appear out of thin air, but that won't make him stay. Would he even want to at this point? A choice needs to be made, for the future of his family and for his own sake. Is he willing to change, or will he finally understand what it truly means to be alone.
Relationships: Alfred Pennyworth & Bruce Wayne, Cassandra Cain & Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Kate Kane & Bruce Wayne, Lian Harper & Roy Harper
Series: Star Sapphire Jason [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1632121
Comments: 56
Kudos: 502





	Rock Bottom

**Author's Note:**

> The beginning of this takes places roughly about the same time as Learning to Let Go.  
> Warnings for mentions of possible suicide, flashback, panic attack, mental health stigma, and "not my child" denial.

The Watchtower was silent, the low hum of the satellite’s systems the only sound capable of piercing the air in that moment. Yet another League meeting finished, another meeting without any progress.

The image of Earth stood before him, the planet separated from him only by space and glass. No one would bother him here, not now anyway.

It had been two meetings since Bruce had told the League, a month since they had learned of the missing Red Hood, of Jason Todd. It had been four months since he had disappeared. For four months Bruce had scoured through every last one of Jason’s known contacts. For a month now he had listened to the League, followed Diana’s directions of time away from patrolling Gotham, allowed others to handle his city. He doubted her idea of a night off included sitting in front of a monitor and looking through security feeds, but what she didn’t know couldn’t hurt her.

She knew, he wasn’t that much of an idiot admittedly. She knew every night she made him take off he was at that computer. Unhealthy she’d call it, obsessive. Good thing for the both of them, he never asked, and she never bothered to check on him.

He could be healthy when Jason came home.

Really though, even if they found him would that guarantee he’d come back? Would he return to Gotham? Would he ever go back to the manor? Even before his disappearance he would rarely venture there, what were the chances of him ever calling it home again? Did he ever consider it home?

Bruce’s forehead met the cool glass, chilly even through the cowl. He remembered once, a time before a warehouse in Ethiopia, a time before Jason had left in search of a mother, a time when his son had seemed so happy, so full of life. Then, that’s when he would have called the manor a home. How long ago was that? Over seven years now if memory served him correctly.

He could practically feel the gray hairs at his temple scratching at the cowl, begging to be let out. They wanted to be seen, wanted to show how he wasn’t invincible, that for all the metas and aliens and super powered freaks he could defeat Father Time was one foe he could not oppose. 

He’d need to redye them again. He had a gala soon, he needed his image to stay right where it was. Kate tried telling him once that the gray would help him, that it would get a lot of people off his back as he would seem “too old” for a lot of his usual harpies. He sincerely doubted that. For how much Tim and Stephanie might complain about his use of teen slang he did know how to use the internet and had to have a presence on certain websites to maintain his Brucie persona. He’d seen some of the things people said about him, certain...words that he was oh so grateful none of his children had ever called him. A few gray hairs wouldn’t scare those people away, no, they’d be after him twice as hard.

Once upon a time, years ago, he might have wished for a child of his own to call him that, but now… now he couldn’t hear the word “daddy” without wanting to run and hide. The word just wasn’t the same after he’d seen those tweets.

He heard footsteps approach from further down the hall. The interloper didn’t need to walk, especially not on the Watchtower, so why bother? He figured it was likely a courtesy thing, those midwestern values telling the other it was only polite to let the other person know you’re approaching. Damn Boy Scout.

Clark came to a stop next to him, his eyes trained on the Earth in front of them. Bruce stared at him for a few moments, taking in the set jaw, the determined eyebrows. He’d been expecting this conversation for a while if he was being honest.

“Let me guess,” he said, choosing to forgo the other’s expected attempts at small talk. He didn’t have the patience for it. “You’re here to tell me I need to talk to someone.”

Clark turned, his unnaturally blue eyes searching him for something. They showed disappointment a moment later. He looked down briefly, hand clenching, before raising his head to look Bruce in the eye. “Yes.” 

Bruce scoffed, hands pushed off the glass as he turned to leave. He may have anticipated this conversation but that didn’t mean he had to stick around for it. His arm was quickly grabbed, not hard enough to bruise but enough to know he wasn’t going anywhere. 

“Bruce please. I care about you, you’re my friend. All I want is for you to be happy. But your actions, how you’ve been talking to people lately, it’s not good, it’s not healthy. You’re not in a good place right now.” He stared at him, imploring his friend to listen. “It’s tearing you down and tearing your family apart.”

Bruce tried to yank his arm out of the grip, a snarl on his lip when he finally succeeded. “What the hell do you know?”

Clark let out a deep, heavy sigh. Bruce wanted to hit him so much. Oh, this was hard for him? Making unnecessary and unasked for suggestions and demands of his supposed best friend was _difficult_? He didn’t know the first thing about anything being difficult.

“The kids, they’re getting more closed off. And yes, I know some of them aren’t very talkative, I’ve known these kids for years, I understand that, but they’re hardly talking to _anyone_. You were in the meeting just now, how much did Dick and Tim say? Huh?”

Bruce raised an eyebrow at him although it was still likely hidden by the cowl as per usual. Its effect was still felt.

“B, they’re going on less patrols now but they’re just as exhausted if not even more. That’s not healthy for them. Yes, they’re mostly all adults, but this is not a case of bad adult decisions.” He blew out another breath, eyes darting between Bruce and the floor. Bruce had to give it to him, at least for how annoying he was being he wasn’t willing to let his nerves stop him. “I look at Dick and I see him deteriorating Bruce. When he took up your mantle, when he became Batman, I saw him as he began to lose himself to it. Now he’s losing himself because he’s having to step up and be the adult for everyone, the adult that you’re supposed to be.”

His snarl deepened as his fist clenched. “What the hell do you expect me to do Clark, huh? Act like nothing’s wrong?”

“I want you to get help Bruce, just like Diana’s been saying for a month now.” He trudged over to a chair, plopping himself down as he watched Bruce follow him. His eyebrows creased further as he prepared for whatever he was going to say. “I admit, I’ve allowed myself to be...willfully ignorant towards certain things that have happened with your family in the past. I didn’t see it as my place to say anything, and I was worried that doing so might ruin our friendship. But lately I just, I can’t keep doing that Bruce. The kids, all of them, it’s affecting them and not in a good way. I care about you and our friendship, but I care about them too. Someone needs to be looking out for them, and if it’s not going to be you, well…”

His teeth were grinding as he listened to the other’s speech, as he took in what Clark was telling him. “You know the dangers of telling anyone our identities Clark, therapist or not.”

“For fuck’s sake, don’t give me that bullshit. You know full well the League has approved and trusted therapists and psychiatrists, _you’re_ the one who screened them! You’re the one who approved their positions working within the hero community, so don’t you dare use that excuse.”

“And you know the dangers of mixing drugs with our line of work.”

He threw his hands in the air, his head leaning against the chair’s headrest as he appeared to pray for guidance. “And you and I both know that’s not what I’m asking you to do.”

Bruce ran a hand over his face, the cowl sliding back as he pinched the bridge of his nose. A headache was starting to pound at his temples. “What am I supposed to tell them, hmm? You expect me to just drop in and tell my kids ‘guess who needs a doctor because he can’t handle his _feelings_ ’?”

Clark looked genuinely worried as he listened. “Tell them you’re getting help, that it’s okay to do that. Bruce, you bottle everything up, you refuse to show half your emotions because you see them as some sort of weakness. How do you think that comes across to your family? To your children?”

Bruce’s growl was response enough.

“Damian is in near constant fear of failure. He’s been struggling with his identity, with who he is and who he wants to become, since he got into Gotham. Do you honestly think what you’re doing is being a good example for him?”

He glared at his friend, his eyes turned to cold hard steel.

“Sometimes I look at how you interact with Damian and then I look at how he interacts with Dick, and I have to wonder how that happened.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I’ve talked to him, you know, about this same thing. Dick has his reservations but he’s open to the idea, but you know what’s holding him back? He’s having to take care of everyone else. He’s having to be the parental figure for Damian, he’s having to be the mentor to Tim and Cass and Stephanie and Duke. With everything that’s happened, with everything that is still happening, it’s basically turned into his full time job Bruce, but that’s not his burden to bear. It’s supposed to be yours.” His voice had turned hard, fury burning bright in his eyes as he stared Bruce down. “But since you’re clearly not being a part of your family, and you’re not seeing anyone to get help, I have to ask. What are you doing? Honestly? I know you’re abiding by Diana’s rules, I know you’re taking your assigned nights off. So what are you doing with all that time Bruce?”

The question followed him as he stormed to the zeta tubes, even if his friend did not.

* * *

The batcave materialized around him as the light from the zeta beam diminished. It was cold, empty, the sound of running water and the bats’ chatter the only noises filling the vast open space. It didn’t escape his notice that the cave was empty of all people, and for that he was grateful.

For the duration of his journey from the observation room back to his home his teeth had been grinding. His headache had expanded from his temples to the rest of his skull as the conversation replayed in his head. Who did Clark think he was? Telling him how to live his life, how to raise his children, like he had any idea. He ripped his gloves off as he left the zeta, throwing them to the ground with a snarl. Therapy, really? He didn’t need to talk about his _feelings_ , he needed to find his son, not that the League had been much of a help on that end. For all the powers and abilities the group held, no progress had been made in a month. No, if anything progress had gone backwards. Diana, in her oh so infinite wisdom, decided Bruce needed to take time off. Not just take a few days off, no, she decided he needed to take time off _weekly._ It wasn’t bad enough that he’d conceded control to her and the League, that he’d let them see files and information that was never meant to leave the cave. No, she needed to insert herself into his business even further and stop him from working efficiently.

A piece of railing echoed with a loud clang as his belt collided with it.

He saw Alfred waiting by the computer as he stomped up the ramp, uncaring of how loud he was being. Alfred must have come down when the alert for the zeta tube went off.

“I take it the meeting did not go as you wished sir?”

Bruce reached up, hands moving in a flurry to get his cape and cowl off. “Progress in my area has been limited. Clark had some unhelpful suggestions to make following the meeting.” The cape finally slipped to the floor behind him. He stepped around the other man, taking his seat.

He heard Alfred’s sigh behind him, the older man no doubt showing his age as he looked at him with tired eyes. Never had Alfred looked so old as he had during the past months, never had he come across as something other than strong and dependable, as an eternal beacon of support.

“Master Richard and Master Timothy returned about thirty minutes ago. They both have already retired upstairs. Might I suggest you do the same.”

“No,” he growled in response. The monitors came alive once more, his latest programs already popping up in a bid for his attention. “There is too much that needs to be done for that.”

Behind him, he once again heard a sound of disappointment. And really, wasn’t that telling. Never in his life had Alfred seemed so disappointed in Bruce, not when he’d decided against finishing college, not when he’d left to train all over the world, not when he’d taken up the mantle of Batman and proceeded to go out night after night and returned a bloody mess. No, all of that paled in comparison to his current disappointment.

“Killing yourself won’t bring him back Master Bruce.” He sounded heartbroken, defeated even. Bruce’s fingers froze above the keys as he waited for him to continue. “I understand your desire to find Master Jason, if anyone in this house does it is I, but do remember you have other children that need you.”

A moment of silence passed between them as Bruce clenched his fists.He finally heard Alfred turn to walk away, his shoes tapping their way towards the exit. He turned to watch as the other left, noticing how truly haggard he looked. For once his face did not reflect the usual calming self awareness the way it always did. Instead he looked tired and hopeless. His hands no longer seemed elegant, they looked fragile. Where his shoulders always looked ready to hold the weight of the world, it looked as though any additional weight would cause him to crumble.

He watched as Alfred stepped into the elevator and waited until the lift began to rise to turn back to the computer. Maybe Clark was right, maybe he was doing more harm than good. In the computer’s screen a familiar object reflected itself right on the edge. He turned, faced now with the familiar glass case, the case that showed so clearly his biggest mistakes, his greatest failures. He didn’t move, rooted to the spot as he stared at the case, at the empty suit inside, at the plaque emblazoned on the front.

“A Good Soldier”. In many ways he still wondered about that, about his choice of phrase, at the case’s existence, at everything it served as a reminder of. He couldn’t drink, not when he was in the cave with this case looming within. Alcohol was supposed to numb pain, but when faced with something such as this, it just seemed to do the opposite.

Could this be the reasons for Jason’s disappearance, for why he was still missing? Bruce, with all his genius, had left this monument to death standing in his cave. He had kept such a stark reminder of his death up and ready for all the world to see and speculate over. How much was Jason really loved if this was what Bruce kept around as a reminder of him?

A thought rushed into his head, one he’d fought off many times in the past four months. Maybe they will find him, one day soon, but maybe it wouldn’t be Jason anymore. Maybe all they will find is a body, all traces of Jason the person gone. It wouldn’t be an enemy that got him, no retaliation or revenge, it wouldn’t even be an accident. No, this thought, this same damning thought that kept him up night after night scouring through every last breadcrumb in search of his son, this thought that returned night after night like some terrible nightmare, would always insist that whatever the cause of death it was self inflicted.

He shook his head furiously, turning sharply back to the computer. No, Jason wouldn’t do that, never. Of all his children Jason had experienced the worst, sure, but he was easily the strongest because of that. No, his kids were strong enough, they had good heads on their shoulders, Jason especially. Jason would never do such a thing, not his Jaylad, not his son.

* * *

The world returned to him slowly, with a sharp pain in his neck and the discomfort of hard metal on his face. Forcing his eyes open revealed that, yes, he was still in the cave just as he remembered. He managed to turn his head just enough to notice the blanket wrapped around him and the dark computer monitors. He pushed himself up, joints popping and cracking as he forced them to move.

He slumped back, running a hand over his face. Alfred must have put something in his drink again. That or he’d just straight up tranqed him. He’d done it enough times over the years that Bruce knew it wasn’t out of the question.

The last thing he remembered was digging through Black Mask’s networks, searching for any new associates Roman had gained in the hopes of finding a lead. While he’d looked through the crime lord’s networks many times already, he couldn’t bring himself to exclude him from his search. No, he’d shown too much of an interest in Jason, he had for years. 

Roman had no qualms about his disdain for the Red Hood and had made it clear he would do anything to be rid of him. But then there had been times where the crime lord had shown a very...specific interest in the young man. There were very few things Roman Sionis considered himself above and well, based on everything Bruce knew about the man, _that_ certainly was not one of them.

Just the thought made Bruce sick.

He rolled his neck once more before bending down to remove his boots. Why hadn’t he taken the damned things off before? Hell, why hadn’t he changed into something not so layered and compressed? The batsuit was great for fighting, it protected him well against most opponents, but the suit wasn’t made to be worn for such long periods of time let alone slept in. He’d be lucky if the Kevlar and armor hadn’t cut in or indented his skin. He had enough scars thank you very much. 

The boots were kicked off, finding a new home beneath the computer terminal. He left them as he moved towards the locker area, leaving the blanket behind as well.

A quick shower and a change of clothes did well in waking him up. And as much as he performed his turtleneck and slacks, the sweatpants and T-shirt he found himself in were better for his aching joints anyway.It wasn’t like he had to be anywhere.

Checking the time revealed that even if he did need to be at the office he’d already missed half the day. It was already after one in the afternoon, how much had Alfred dosed him with? Enough for an elephant?

The dining room was empty by the time he got there. His stomach growled as he moved towards the kitchen. He hadn’t eaten in well over sixteen hours, and while he could go longer it just wasn’t worth it.

He entered to find Alfred pattering around the kitchen’s space. Food was being put in its respective places, old and spoiled counterparts thrown in the bin. He must have just returned from the store. It was Sunday, that would make sense.

“Oh, Master Bruce, I see you’ve finally decided to grace the manor with your presence,” the old butler said as he noticed Bruce’s presence. At his silence he continued. “I imagine you are hungry. Give me a moment to finish up here and I can make you something.”

He remained silent as Alfred returned to work. Watching the other only served to remind him of how he’d fallen asleep the night before. He took his usual seat at the island, eyes hard as he continued to watch.

“Now what do you want for food?” Alfred turned to him in search of an answer, only to receive a grunt. “Eggs it is then.”

He turned to the stove, skillet in hand as he began preparations for the eggs. Bruce’s eyes attempted to drill holes in his back. He cracked an egg, voice calm and even as he said, “my boy, if you have something to say then speak. You’ve had no qualms about holding your tongue in the past, I don’t see why you choose to do so now.”

He continued to watch him, his glare deepening as he took a moment to respond. “It was the tea wasn’t it?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”

“The sedative. The tea you sent Damian down with, you put a sedative in it again.”

Alfred turned to look back at him, eyebrows drawn in confusion. “Master Bruce, I assure you I did no such thing. In fact, I haven’t bothered making tea that late at night for nearly a month now as you never drink it.”

Wheels turned around in his head as he processed what was being said, what it meant. “But Damian said-“

“Perhaps Master Damian has finally reached a point where even he has been forced to remove his rose tinted glasses, as you might say, and is forced to see what these last few months have done to you.”

Bruce put his head in his hands, a small familiar pressure building. “I’ll have a talk with him later. He can’t do that sort of thing again.”

“You will do no such thing.” The stove was turned off, the eggs now thoroughly ruined as Alfred turned to face him completely. “What that boy needs right now is not a lecture, he does not need Batman giving him orders, what that boy needs right now is his father and quite frankly, dare I say, you have not even attempted to act within that role in _months_. If we are being honest you hardly tried even before that. There is no excuse for that, none.”

They stared at each other, Alfred with his righteous fury and Bruce in stoic silence. After a moment Alfred seemed to all but deflate, his shoulders slumping as he leaned against the counter behind him. Exhaustion radiated off of him as he looked at Bruce.

“I admit, however, that this may be my own fault. There are many areas in which I have failed as your guardian.” Sirens began wailing in Bruce’s mind, warning bells ringing as Alfred voiced what he’d likely been contemplating for months if not years. “I can say I’m proud of you and I know it to be true, that I am proud of all you have achieved, proud that you took the pain associated with your parents’ deaths and still managed to create such a large and beautiful family despite that. I am proud of all your work in Wayne Enterprises, in following in your parents’ paths, in using your position and wealth for good and to help those less fortunate. 

“But many times, I must admit, I see you like this, self destructive in one way, an emotional parasite in another, and I have to wonder what I could have done differently, what I should have done when you were a young lad or a teenager to ensure your current state never came to pass.” He reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose, letting out a shaky breath before continuing. “It is difficult not to see how everyone acts around you, how the children walk on eggshells just waiting for the moment when they make the wrong decision, when they say the wrong thing. I see how you speak to them, how in many ways, especially now, you treat them more like soldiers waiting to take your orders than as the children they are. I see all of this and I have to wonder why, in so many years, have I never said or done anything to stop it.”

“Alfred, you…” Bruce shook his head, feeling panic racing through him. “You did the best you could, it’s never been your responsibility to do any of that.”

“And that, Master Bruce, is where you are wrong. As your guardian it was my responsibility to care for you and raise you, to ensure you grew up to be a respectable member of society, someone your parents would be proud of. But instead I allowed you to do as you wished. I saw the warning signs, I knew I needed to get you help, but instead I chose to ignore those signs as I believed it wasn’t my place. After all, I was just a butler, in what world could I ever hold the same authority as Thomas? But now, with everything that has happened, I can’t let this continue. There must come a time when I admit that I have been enabling your behaviors, and I believe that time is now.” 

He took the dirtied skillet from the stove and scrapped the burnt egg into the trash as Bruce watched with wide eyes. He didn’t actually mean that did he? Surely, Alfred was overreacting, he had no control over Bruce, he had no responsibility in what he did, not now and not ever.

Alfred returned to the stove with a new skillet and eggs. He ran through cracking the eggs as though on autopilot, his moves jerky as he remained turned away from Bruce.

“I understand your concern for Master Jason. But you need to ask yourself, is that worry brought on by genuine concern for the young man, or is it because you are not in control of this situation? Is your worry _for_ _him_ or because of the inconvenience his absence brings to you?”

The stove was turned off, the eggs slid onto a plate. He placed the food before Bruce before turning to clean the skillets. 

“Of course I’m concerned about him, he’s my son.”

“Then how about you act like his father? We cannot change the past, but that does not mean we should allow ourselves to stay there. You were once called a hero because your actions made you so. Yet, it seems that notion has been incorrectly reversed. Being a hero does not make your actions and behaviors correct, it simply does not work that way. You are supposed to be the example for this family. Your position as Batman, as a founding member of the Justice League, makes you an example to so many other individuals, a role model even. It is a difficult role to be responsible for but I have seen you manage it with grace and perseverance in the past. It is time you start taking that responsibility seriously again.” He moved to leave the kitchen. “If you want a suggestion on where to begin, I believe you could start with the case downstairs. I’m sure you’re aware of which one I speak of. Enjoy your meal Master Bruce.”

With Alfred’s departure the kitchen fell into silence. His mind, on the other hand, screamed with activity as he tried to keep his food down. Of course he loved Jason, he’s his son, why wouldn’t he? He’d taken him off the streets, had offered him a new life. You didn’t just _do_ that sort of thing. No, he loved him, loved his passion for crime fighting and doing what’s right. He loved the boy who had been so enthusiastic about learning and returning to school, who had risen above all expectations. Jason had been the first child he’d adopted, had moved from ward to son even before Dick. Of course he loved him.

He loved Jason, who had died a boy, still so small for his age as a result of his previous life. The boy who had returned almost five years later as a man. Of course he loved this new Jason who somehow had grown out of that malnourishment, who now stood at practically the same size as Bruce himself. This hulking young man with blood on his hands and green fire in his eyes, who had torn through Gotham’s underbelly like a plague upon his return. This whirlwind of vicious words and sharp teeth, of bullets and knives and an unwillingness to compromise, this was his son.

He slammed his hand on the table, the other clutching his head as he realized what he was doing. He squeezed his eyes shut, the image of a fifteen year old Jason standing next to the twenty three year old he was now clouding his vision. His son had been so small and yet so happy, sometimes it was near impossible to remember that the grown man with a perpetual frown on his face was the same person. So many times it felt like they were two completely different people who just happened to share a name.

But that wasn’t right, he knew that.

Maybe Alfred was right, Alfred and everyone else. Maybe he didn’t actually love Jason, maybe he just loved the memory of him.

No, that was nonsense, Jason was a vital part of the family. He was easily one of their most experienced and knowledgeable members thanks to whatever training he’d received under Talia’s care. He had skills that they didn’t even know about. And it wasn’t just with work, there were good memories with him as an adult outside of the suits and capes too. He seemed to get along with Duke and Cass just fine. Hell, he’d even made a few jokes with Duke before his disappearance. Yes, it’s Jason he loves, that they all love.

But then why was he always left out he wondered. Why was he never invited to family gatherings if Dick and Cass weren’t involved? Why did Bruce always question him?

Because everyone needed to be questioned at some point, not all ideas are equal, no actions are equal. None except for the taking of a life.

But is it really? He’d seen the feeds from that night in Arkham when Jason had taken down Two-Face’s men, when he protected Damian because Bruce had been off doing who knows what. Can he really say that what Jason did was equal to those men successfully killing his youngest child? Could he really equate Jason’s actions, that of protection, to murder? Jason had died horribly, had been beaten and broken and left in a building set to blow up around him. The coroner’s report might say he died of smoke inhalation but at the end of the day he was still murdered. Could he really equate Jason’s actions to that? Could he really say they were the same thing?

He pushed the thoughts away as he forced himself to finish his food. Cleaning the dish was a nice solace from the thoughts, at least for a moment. Damian flashed through his mind briefly, Alfred’s words echoing in his ears. He was right, Damian needed his father and Bruce owed it to his son to spend some time with him. Really, Damian’s late night tea runs were the majority of the time they’d spent together outside of the capes lately. He needed to change that.

Checking the boy’s room yielded no results, and the back patio space did the same. He wasn’t in the cave, that much Bruce knew. While on his way to check the entertainment room he caught sight of Titus. The Great Dane’s tail began wagging the second he laid eyes on Bruce.

“Hey boy,” Bruce greeted as he pet the large black head. “Can you tell me where Damian is?”

The dog licked his palm before turning and walking away. He followed him to the door of the library. Titus nudged the door open and walked in without a backwards glance. Bruce followed, keeping his entrance as quiet as possible. At one of the tables he could see Damian taking notes as he and Dick talked.

“There you are Titus,” Damian said as he reached to rub the dog’s head. “I was concerned you’d gotten lost.” A look of panic washed over his face as he spun back to Dick. “Something akin to Alzheimer’s wouldn’t affect him would it? I mean, he’s only three years old, but with the life expectancy for a dog his size...”

Dick chuckled in amusement as he watched the scene unfold. “No no, he should be fine, I’d think so anyway. Though we can always ask the vet during his next checkup if you’re concerned, okay?”

Damian nodded and took one last moment to pull Titus close before returning to the paper in front of him. Titus laid on the ground, lifting his head enough to rest it on Damian’s leg.

Bruce remained where he was standing, a pang of longing running through him as he took in the scene. Damian asked Dick another question and Bruce had to wonder how Dick was so good at talking to and understanding others, at knowing what to say and how to say it. He didn’t have the sight like Cass, he couldn't read people and know their next move or know what they’re thinking or feeling. He didn’t have Alfred’s patience or years of experience. So why did Damian and the others all gravitate to him so much? Why can he understand them so well when Bruce couldn’t?

Somehow he managed to have some kind of understanding with Jason, one Bruce was eternally confused by. And not pre-death Jason, no, if anything their relationship before Jason’s death had been strife with tension and more problems than it ever should have been. It wasn’t hard for Bruce to think back on that tension and know most of those problems had been caused by him, by his unwillingness to listen to or understand Dick, by Bruce giving away his mantle to another person that Dick didn’t even know about, by him not even telling Dick that Jason existed until Dick came across him himself.

So no, Dick hadn’t really been on the best of terms with Jason before his death. If anything Jason probably symbolized how low his relationship with Bruce had fallen, how he was replaceable. Bruce could say all he wanted that it had never his intention but that didn’t change that it had happened.

Somehow though, despite all that, Bruce could still acknowledge that the two had formed some kind of friendly relationship since Jason’s return, maybe not for the first year or so but it happened. A shared laugh, inside jokes only the two of them seemed to get, patching each other up after a rough battle. Dick was one of the few people Jason had willingly let in his safehouses, he was one of the few Jason would let close enough to stitch him up. How had that happened? What had Dick done to have this seeming comradery with Jason? With all of his children? What was he doing that Bruce wasn’t?

There were many things Bruce was envious of when it came to his children, and this? This was absolutely one of them.

Dick must have noticed him at some point and based on his expression Bruce most likely had another scowl on his face. “Hey B, everything alright?”

Across from him Damian seemed to snap to attention, clearly expecting some kind of problem or emergency that needed dealt with. What did it say about him that even now, years after Damian had left the League of Shadows, he still expected to receive orders anytime Bruce came around?

“No, othing is wrong,” he answered. He wanted to make sure they were okay, he wanted to spend time with them, something he should have been doing all along. He screamed from inside his own head with the desire to say all that and more. “Just checking up on everyone,” he said instead with a grimace.

Damian’s shoulders hitched up, eyebrows drawn together. “We are doing perfectly fine Father. You do not need to waste your time here.”

He could see the dismissal for what it was, but in his stubbornness chose to ignore it. “Well what are you guys working on?” He walked to the table they were working at. Dick gave him a pointed look, his smile pulling tight as Bruce got closer. 

Damian set down the pen he’d been holding, a crack running up the plastic. His hands moved down to Titus’s head, running over the black fur there. “I am working on a presentation concerning the proper treatment of animals in entertainment.”

“Ah, so you’re interviewing Dick then?” He tried to lighten his voice, to make it friendlier just as he’d tried to soften his expression. Based on Damian’s shifting eyes he wasn’t successful.

“It would be improper of me not to use firsthand accounts if they are available.” 

Bruce opened his mouth, fully intent on asking another question, only to be interrupted by Dick. “Hey Dami, let’s take five okay? I’m sure Titus needs to go outside by now.” Damian nodded. He stood up, Titus following. “Could you also bring me something to drink too? My throat is _killing_ me.” Dick made a pained expression as he rubbed his neck. Damian rolled his eyes in response. 

“I suppose I could make something before I return,” he muttered as he headed to the door without a glance in Bruce’s direction.

“Thanks Little D, you know I love your tea.”

“Tt, of course you do Richard.”

Once the door shut behind them Dick’s smile fell as he turned back to Bruce. For a moment he seemed to be studying his face before he let out a bone deep sigh.”What are you doing Bruce?”

“I wanted to check up on you and Damian,” he reiterated. “I haven’t seen you two in a while and I wanted to see what you were up to.”

He sighed again, his hands coming up to cradle his head for a moment before he came to a decision. He began moving his and Damian’s supplies to the side, away from where he and Bruce sat. So, he wanted a talk, and this wasn’t just a chit chat. He’d only seen his son with this kind of expression a handful of times, but every time he did it put a sour taste in his mouth. Dick was supposed to be happy and carefree, he wasn’t supposed to be held down by the world. He wasn’t supposed to be as jaded as he looked in that moment. 

“I’m taking Damian and Duke to my apartment in the city.” Bruce started to say something only to once again be silenced as Dick raised his hand. “I need you to understand that I’m not doing this out of malice or some twisted revenge scheme, or something else that is against you. I’m doing this because it’s what’s best for the both of them. Duke’s finishing up the semester at Gotham U in two weeks, he needs to focus on his finals, and Damian’s supposed to start seeing Dr. Wagner next week. The last thing he needs is to question what he can say when he sees her.”

Bruce leaned back as he mulled over the name. Dr. Wagner, it sounded familiar. Then it hit him. She was one of the League therapists. If he remembered correctly she had been with them for years by now, was one of their first specialists if he remembered correctly. She mostly dealt with the younger heroes, the children and teenagers.

“You’re taking Damian to a therapist?” he asked just to be sure.

“Yes, he needs someone outside of the family to talk to, someone that isn’t...in our line of work, but that he can still feel safe with. Really if I had it my way everyone in this messed up family would be going. But Tim, Duke, and Cass are legally adults, if they don’t want to go there’s nothing I can do. Jason’s still legally dead,” he said, giving Bruce a pointed look, “so it’s not like he could ever really go without having to jump through hoops even if he wanted to. And I sure as shit am not gonna be able to get you to go, that’s for sure.”

Bruce stared at his son, saw how the circles under his eyes had gotten deeper than he remembered. HIs face seemed leaner too. Was he eating properly? His eating habits weren’t always the best but they’d never caused this kind of visible weight loss. “Then how are you making Damian go? You’re not his parent.”

“Alright one,” he said, holding up his index finger, “you remember that whole you got stuck in time shit? You technically being dead here? Me and Alfred and the whole 'family gets custody' thing?" When Bruce nodded he continued. “When you came back you decided that it would be a good idea to leave me with that partial custody I had, just in case something ever happened again. You remember that right?”

Yes, Bruce remembered that all too well. The panic of realizing he was trapped, that he might never see his family again, the relief at coming home and finding that Damian was finding his own spot in the family, that he hadn’t been tossed to the side the minute Bruce was gone. Of course he’d put Dick as one of Damian’s legal guardians, of course he wrote that in his will, it only made sense in their line of work.

“Two,” Dick interrupted his thoughts as a second finger raised. “I have Talia’s approval.” Red flags blared as he took in how calm he’d delivered the news. Dick hated Talia, had for years now. He was good at hiding it for Damian, but it was still there. If he had her approval that meant he’d been in contact with her, likely more than once. But as far as Bruce was aware she hadn’t stepped foot in New Jersey, let alone Gotham, in months. “And three, I’m not making him go.” At Bruce’s confused look he explained. “With Damian you don’t _make_ him do things Bruce, that’s part of why your relationship is so strained. He needs to know that he has a say in what happens, that you aren’t treating him like a child that is being told what to do.”

“But he’s—“

“No,” Dick cut him off again. “Damian is thirteen years old, has faced down horrors no one his age should, has been forced to look death in the face, and was raised surrounded by it. He may be a child to you because he’s your son, but he’s not and you need to understand and acknowledge that. You feel like you need to be in control of everything, I get it, but when you actually take a step back and look at it he is growing into his own person. Part of that means letting him make his own decisions. You might not like all the decisions he makes, but you need to support him anyway. You’ve had both me and Tim at roughly this stage, I would hope by now you could figure it out.”

“So he brought it up then?” The idea sent a jolt of hurt through him, that Damian was more willing to bring this topic up with Dick rather than his own father. They weren’t exaggerating when they said their relationship was strained if that was the case.

“No,” he answered, giving Bruce a moment of relief. “I sat him down one day and we talked it over, what it is, what would happen, what questions might be asked, listing out the pros and cons together. He wanted to look into Dr. Wagner and a few others on his own, do his own research, yada yada. Few days later, we talked again and he agreed on the condition that I go as well.” 

“So you’re both…”

“Yes, and if you start with your emotionally constipated bullshit, if you start doing your whole ‘I need to be in control of everything, I need to know everything, even if it means invading others’ privacy again’ crap, you’re gonna have a lot more problems than you do right now.”

He found himself staring at his eldest, wondering when this had all happened, how it all happened without him noticing. “Tim? And Cass?”

“Tim mentioned that he had some vacation time or something saved up at W.E., said he’ll probably take that and spend a few weeks away with Kon or his team or something.” He shrugged. “Cass is her usual self, kinda all over the place. She hasn’t made any plans as far as I’m aware, not outside of a few girls' nights with Babs, Steph, and Kate anyway.”

“Okay,” he nodded, processing everything as he tried to formulate plans for their various absences.

“Hey,” Dick said as he leaned across the table, placing his hand on Bruce’s. “You’re allowed to take a break too, remember? Like that time when Jason was sick. Ha, yeah, he told me about that a while ago, said it was like his favorite memory or something, almost gave it away. But the point still stands. Take a break, step back, focus on you and getting your shit together. I mean, unless you really like those shouting matches we’ve gotten into in the past, but something tells me you don’t and neither do I.”

Before he could respond the library door opened as Damian and Titus entered. Damian set a small tray on the table, a pot of tea and two cups on its surface. He poured the tea into the cups, his eyes flashing to Bruce briefly before returning to the task at hand. He handed a cup to Dick before he took his seat again.

“I believe we should continue with my assignment. It has been well over your allocated five minutes Richard.”

Dick laughed as he sipped from the cup. He reached up to ruffle Damian’s hair. “Yes sir.”

Bruce patted Damian’s shoulder as he left, not able to ignore the tension there.

“Call me if you need anything,” he said as he reached the door. Dick’s hum of acknowledgement was his only response.

* * *

For the first time in nearly twenty years Bruce was alone. The manor had stood empty around him for days, its silence deafening as he moved through the empty halls. In many ways he felt like a ghost residing within its abandoned walls, floating from room to room without purpose in the hopes of finding a living person there. He never did.

Even the animals were gone now. Titus and Alfred the cat followed Damian into Dick’s cramped apartment. It was a coin toss as to whether Ace had gone with them or with Alfred. Either way they were gone.

The only remaining beings resided not in the manor but below it. Yet even the dozens of bats that had taken up residence in the cave had grown quiet, only speaking in small whispers to each other as though they were gossiping about him.

He finally knew what it was like to work alone. He hated it.

His only human interactions for four days now had been the criminals that inhabited Gotham’s streets. Muggers, abusers, thieves, assaulters, would be rapists, none qualified as good company not that any of them tried to be.

The man he was about to throw into a wall would definitely be in that category.

It wasn’t the best part of Gotham, but then again what was? A young woman had been walking home after leaving a restaurant, a waitress from what Bruce could see. Not the best of decisions really, in fact it was something he once would have scoffed at as stupid and gullible. Now, after years of interacting with the citizens of Gotham he understood it for the fact of life that it was. Not everyone had the luxury of a car here, let alone the comfort of a job that finished while the sun was still up or the financial freedom to live somewhere safer. It was a horrible situation to be in and he absolutely loathed it.

A few blocks after the woman left the restaurant she had gained a follower, one who clearly wasn’t much of a fan. Bruce could see how his hands continuously clenched and unclenched, how his eyes dashed between the woman and the surroundings in search of any people or security cameras. He was tensing up, preparing to pounce, and then he rushed her. 

She was shoved into an alley, her arms shooting out to stop her fall as he tried to rip her bag away from her, uncaring of the strap wrapped around her torso. Bruce jumped down, cape slowing his descent so his foot could hit home against the man’s face. The man’s face went from boot heel to brick wall instantly, his grunt of pain overshadowed by the flick of his knife. It was an easy task disarming him, the switchblade sent flying as his arm was twisted. His bravado finally left as he came face to face with a snarling Batman, all color draining from his face.

“Leave,” the Bat growled, sounding far from human. “Now.”

The attacker ran from the alley, breathing in hard and fast as he took a left out onto the street. With the danger gone, Bruce turned back to the woman. She had regained her composure during the brief scuffle and was dusting off her skirt.

“Are you alright?” He asked, voice coming out distorted.

“Yeah yeah, I’m fine. Dealt with worse before,” she responded as she patted down her pockets. Finding everything there, she started towards the mouth of the alley. “Imma finish headin’ home, ‘s not too far from here.”

“Do you want me to-“

“Nah nah, ‘m good. Thanks.”

She left the alley, leaving behind a very confused Batman. It happened sometimes where a victim would brush an attack off as nothing and then proceed on their way. That didn’t mean it wouldn’t throw him for a loop whenever it did.

He heard laughing above him and looked up to find a familiar pale face there. Kate’s laughter got louder as he stared at her. Moving to the rooftop yielded the same result as she just continued to laugh.

“Sorry sorry,” she said as she wiped a fake tear from her eye. “It’s just, you have the funniest expression when you’re confused in that thing.”

She was gesturing at his head, leading him to believe she was referring to his cowl. But she technically wore one too, hers just had a wig with it. What was so much funnier about his? Was it the lack of makeup?

“Anyway, you hungry?” She held up a small brown bag with a familiar logo.

They moved further uptown where the small apartments turned to skyscrapers and people looked like ants. Kate talked for most of the way, filling the silence that would have been suffocating just twenty minutes earlier. Where normally silence was what calmed him, now it was chatter.

The gargoyles were waiting for them just as they always did. For twenty years they had offered Bruce and his family support, and they continued to do so as he and Kate sat on their ledge.

“So,” she started as she opened the bag. “I heard the manor’s pretty empty right now. Must be pretty quiet.”

And lonely, he thought. “That’s one way of putting it.”

She gave him a weird look, like she was trying to figure him out. Finally she pulled out a burge, handing it to him.

They ate in companionable silence surrounded by the sounds of the sleeping city. There hadn’t been any major villain attacks in weeks, no asylum outbreaks in months. Jim hadn’t turned the bat signal on since Ivy and Harley had taken the mayor’s office hostage. For once the city was peaceful. Then again, crime did tend to slow down around this time of the year. It was December after all.

He realized suddenly that this might be the year he spends the holidays alone.

“Do you ever get tired of this?” Kate’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. “Of being the bat? Of losing so much to this side of your identity?”

At her questioning look he gestured for her to continue, his mouth pulled tight.

“It’s just, we lose out on so many things, things that anyone else would take for granted, those small and insignificant things, you know? Meeting people, having a normal job, normal relationships. I mean, how long did I have to wait to tell Renee about this, to tell her who I was?” She pulled a bottle from the brown bag, downing part of it. “Sometimes I struggle separating these two identities. Batwoman isn’t Kate, it’s a mask for Kate, but sometimes it feels like she’s trying to be. And that’s me, I’ve only been doing this for a few years now. You’ve been going for what? Fifteen? Twenty?”

“It’s a… struggle sometimes,” he admitted.

“There are some nights, you know, where I just wonder if it’s worth it. We’re just normal humans, sure Cass has her weird people reading ninja thing and Duke has his meta abilities, but even with that at the end of it we’re all still just, normal humans.” She was waving her arms around now, eyes hard as she vented the same thoughts Bruce had regularly pushed to the back of his mind. “We’re not like Wonder Woman or Superman, we don’t have powers like the Flashes or a Lantern. What do we really bring to the fight that others with abilities can’t?”

He leaned back as her words washed over him, her concerns more than justified. How many times had he experienced the same thoughts, the same fears? He and his family didn’t have invulnerable skin, they didn’t have fast healing, they couldn’t run fast or shoot lasers from their eyes or lightning from their hands. It was a miracle, really, that any of them were still alive at all. Hell, the closest comparison he could come to would be Oliver, but Ollie had no problems working with metas or other powered individuals, he had no problems putting down Green Arrow if it was for his and others’ well being. Sure, it might take Dinah’s convincing but he’d do it. Bruce on the other hand, he refused to put the mask down, not unless he was so severely injured that he physically could not carry out his duties.

“I’m not saying I don’t like being Batwoman, so don’t take it that way,” Kate said as she wagged a finger at him. “It’s just, I look at what little if any improvements happen for Gotham and then I look at what I’m missing and sacrificing in my life and it just doesn’t seem like an even trade. Multiply that by how many of us operate in this city and it seems even worse. Ugh, I just, it makes me wonder what Beth would say if she could see me right now.”

He wanted to tell her she’d be proud, that she’d look at her twin sister with awe as Kate told her stories of her adventures in the cape. He wanted to tell her that and more, but it would feel too much like a lie.

“Anyway,” she said, dropping her serious voice for something more familiar. “Who’s going with you to the charity gala next week?”

The charity gala, the annual gala held during the holidays hosted by Wayne Enterprises to raise money and collect toys for underprivileged families. How could he have forgotten about that? Normally Tim would go with him due to his position at W.E., but with his vacation with Superboy or Impulse or Wonder Girl or whoever at this point, he probably wouldn’t make it. Dick and Damian were both iffy on these type of events, capable of putting on the face needed but absolutely hating the entire thing.

“I don’t know.”

“Hmm, what about Cass? I know she hates the shoes, but it you let Steph go she’ll be more open to it. And, as a bonus, the media will have their darling back. You know how much they love her. Just make sure she doesn’t go near Luthor this time and you’ll be good.”

Images of the last gala Cass attended surfaced in his mind, the moment that would forever play in slow motion as Cassandra Cain, gown flowing around her like the capes she’d worn in the past, nailed Lex Luthor in the shin with her designer pumps and took the man to the ground with that one move. Then there was the time when he’d tried to brush a strand of hair off her face and she’d proceed to bite his hand hard enough to require stitches.

He nodded, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

Taking that as his answer, Kate gave a quick wave before launching off the tower and gliding across the sky.

* * *

The longer the manor remained empty the more Bruce realized how much he relied on everyone to keep his sanity, let alone to keep him on track. 

It was rare when he’d need to prepare for a gala on his own. Normally Alfred was there to lay out his suit, cufflinks and so on as well as get him to and from the event. While the older man had offered those services earlier Bruce had declined. It was only fair that he get to enjoy his vacation from the manor without interruptions or obligation to Bruce.

It was only now that he realized his words may have come across as something completely different.

As far as he was aware Alfred was still in Gotham, though the exact location he wasn’t entirely sure about. Perhaps he was in the penthouse Bruce owned, or maybe one of the numerous other apartments the family held under different aliases, maybe he was keeping Dick and the boys company. He didn’t know, and at this point he was too afraid to ask. But he missed him, missed all of them. He was finally beginning to understand what Alfred meant when he’d asked him if he missed Jason or missed the convenience of having him around. It made him realize that in so many ways, for how much he believed he was the former, he was showing his family the later, showing them that in regards to all of them. He missed them all, but saying it wasn’t the same as showing it.

The manor felt so empty. He felt so empty.

Cass and Stephanie preparing for the gala a few doors down was more action than the old house had seen in over a week. Aside from his talk with Kate and the phone call with Alfred, this was the most normal human interaction he’d had in just as long.

Someone knocked on his door, strong and unyielding. Stephanie then. Her voice traveled through the old wood as she asked, “you done yet?”

“Almost,” he responded, turning to put on his tie.

“Seriously? Me and Cass had to do our hair and makeup and we’re already done. What’s your excuse, hmm?” She goaded, a smile in her voice.

“Respect your elders young lady,” he joked back. “Unless you want to walk home.”

“Oh please, you’re like forty, take your elder crap somewhere else.”

“Forty-two actually.”

“Oh god, forty-two, oh my lord someone help this man, he’s so old and feeble,” she cried. “He can’t even put on a normal suit anymore for crying out loud, it has to be his fur suit.”

“Ha ha.” The cufflinks went on just fine, suit jacket and shoes following. “Let’s all make fun of the old man with the fursona why don’t we, because clearly you’ve never gone around with your own.”

Her cackling made a warmth flood his chest. How he’d missed that sound. 

“Alright alright,” he said as he left his room. “Fun time’s over, the old man is ready.”

“You’re not gonna be saying that when we get there, are you Mr. Brucie?”

“God I hate that name.”

“You’re the one that keeps using it.” She squinted her eyes as she looked up at him, a hand lifting to run through the dyed hair at his temple. “And the one who can’t handle a few gray hairs.”

They made their way to the foyer where Cass and Kate were waiting for them. “You all look beautiful,” he said, taking in all the work the three had done in their looks.

“Better,” Cass said. “Spent hours on my face.” She turned to scowl at Stephanie. “For a ‘no makeup makeup’ look. Never again.”

Kate laughed beside her before gesturing to the door. “Better make it worth it then, let’s go.”

They all managed to pile into one of the cars, somehow finding a four door amongst all of Bruce’s luxury models. As Kate drove she talked to the girls, the three of them falling into easy conversations on what they’d been up to lately. Bruce sat, content as they bantered back and forth.

As they grew closer to downtown he pulled out his phone, intent on silencing it only to be stopped by the image that greeted him. Five faces stared back at him, one being his own. None of the others belonged to anyone in the car. It was the family portrait, the one that now stood next to his parents’ in the study. A pained expression overtook him as he looked at the picture, remembered the last time he’d seen any of them. The portrait suddenly felt empty, like an incomplete puzzle with pieces in the shapes of Cassandra and Jason missing. When the portrait had been done Cass had been a part of the family, and Jason had been around. 

What kind of a father was he that he only had three of his then five children in the “family” portrait? How could he claim to be unbiased and to love them all when they hadn’t been given a chance to be included?

He opened his phone’s notepad as an idea struck, one he was sure the others would approve of. There was a minimum of four people missing from the picture now, six if Barbara and Stephanie were included which he was sure everyone would want. The picture formed in his mind and he thought of the old portrait, not the one with Dick, Tim, Damian, and Alfred, but the portrait from over three decades ago. He thought of that portrait of him and his parents, the three of them in their sophisticated high class painting, and compared it to his mental image. Three turned to eleven and he wondered how he could take all of that for granted.

* * *

He wished he could say he was surprised when he found Talia waiting for him in the batcave, but really he’d already spent so long lying to himself that it seemed pointless to continue.

She sat at the computer, elegant as ever, as the screen behind her displayed his notes on everything he’d learned since Jason’s disappearance. They’d been closed when he had left his patrol so she must have found them herself. Not surprising honestly. But she looked sad and not for Jason, but for him.

“Hello Talia,” he said as he approached, a question in his voice.

“Bruce,” she responded and it hit him then how strained even this relationship had become, how much it had changed without him noticing. Long gone were the days of being called Beloved. Perhaps it was for the best. “I believe there is something we need to talk about.”

He pulled up a chair, shedding his cape and cowl in the process. He didn’t need to make this any more awkward than it needed to be, she could read him with or without the cowl. They were of no advantage to him. Once he was settled she began. 

“Damian asked me to talk with you.”

At their son’s name he snapped to attention. “You’ve talked to him? How is he?”

She paused to take in his eagerness, pity coating her eyes. “He is well, his grades are exceptional as always. Apparently his art teacher wants to enter him in some national competition. He is quite excited even if he refuses to say so.” She stopped for a moment. “He misses you. He understands why Richard is having him stay with him, but that does not negate a boy’s wish to see or hear from his father.”

“I miss him as well.”

“Then why haven’t you called him?” Her words had an accusatory tone to them, demanding an answer even as they pulled his thoughts to a screeching halt. That...was a fair question. Nothing was stopping him from picking up a phone, nothing was keeping him from taking the initiative and hearing any of his children’s voices. “If you truly miss him, which I believe you do, you will call him tomorrow, understand?”

“Yes, absolutely.” He had no choice but to agree, anything less when Talia used that tone could result in a new stab wound, not that he could deny doing this one thing. He ran through the day in his head, trying to find when a good time to call would be. Damian didn’t have school tomorrow but that didn’t mean he’d appreciate being called at an unreasonable hour. Refocusing, he found Talia’s eyes had drifted to the side, back to the case, before flashing back to the computer screen.

“There is another item we must discuss,” she said. “Damian is concerned that you might...view him differently, as less, for seeing this Dr. Wagner, that you likely view Richard this way as well.”

“I would never,” he defended himself. What kind of an image was he projecting now? First Clark, then Dick, now Talia?

“Then you’ll tell him that during your phone call. Not that you don’t think he is weak, but that you’re proud he’s made this decision. In the League he would have been shunned if not punished for seeking this kind of help. You must show him that such a thing won’t happen here.”

“And you?”

“My ties with the League and my father are strained at best. The chances of me ever returning to them are near non-existent. I need to make clear where my priorities lie. Truthfully, I should have done so sooner. Those priorities, however, they do not fall in line with my father nor his followers. They did not when I chose to help Jason, and they do not now that I have chosen to keep Damian from them.”

She closed her eyes to focus on her breathing, ignoring the man before her momentarily. Finally she opened her eyes, the color of jade digging into his soul. “He wishes for you to see someone as well.” Clearly they were no longer talking about Ra’s. They were back to Damian. She raised her hand as he went to talk, clearly uncomfortable but willing to fight through it. “Your family is scattered Bruce, your home looms empty, filled with nothing but ghosts of your past. If he were to reappear tomorrow do you really think he would be happy returning to this?” She gestured to the computer screen, to all the opened files and pictures that were spread across the different monitors. “Do you think he’d be happy returning to you? Like this? When I found him he was catatonic, he had no mind of his own. He did not respond to anything beyond muscle memory. He could not show or feel emotion except in one instance. Do you know what that was?”

“No,” he said as he soaked up the new information. Everything he’d known, everything he’d believed about Jason’s return from death was a lie. Talia hadn’t dumped a corpse in the Lazarus Pits, she’d put a living breathing Jason instead. How did that happen?

“When I talked about you, how you missed him, how you changed after his death, he cried. Not sobbing or wailing, but he reacted for the first and only time to something that was not physical. He loved you even when his mind was too fractured to understand it. So do this for him, do it for Damian and Richard, Timothy, Cassandra, all the children and teenagers and young adults you have taken under your wing. You have a responsibility to them. Pull yourself together.” She stood up, preparing to leave. As she did so she laid a hand on his shoulder. “You know how to contact me if you need, I will be watching.”

* * *

It wasn’t difficult to find the list. Then again, it was just as Clark had said: Bruce was the one who screened all the League therapists and gave the final verdict on whether they’d be included in the League’s roster. He didn’t really have an excuse for not knowing where to find their information.

Sifting through them all to find one he approved of _for himself_ on the other hand, that he was finding to be near impossible.

As the League and its affiliate teams had grown over the years, so too had its needs. Even now, with the list before him, he knew this wasn’t enough, not for how many people they had, not for how different all of them were.

The thought almost had him closing out the window. He couldn’t take up their time, not when there were so many other heroes who needed their help. He pulled away from the red X as he fought with himself. To any outside viewer he seemed to be glaring a hole through his computer screen, seeming frozen in stone but on the inside he was a whirlwind of activity as he threw ideas back and forth as he fought with himself on whether this was worth it. 

Coming to a decision he pulled up a second list, this one much longer and much older. It got updated every so often, whether by one of the Leaguers or one of the doctors in their employ. This list had the extra column that always contained one of three words: approved, denied, or pending. There weren’t as many in the later category compared to overall amount but it was still a sizeable number. He filtered for them, returning more than enough to keep him busy for the next few hours with background checks.

As it so happened, those hours gave him the result he’d been looking for. She was a bit on the young side, less experienced than most of the others, but she’d come highly recommended by Leslie Thompkins. She didn’t work out of Gotham, having only done so during a brief internship. With the work of finding her over, he figured making the call to set up an appointment would be the easy part. But his limbs fought him every step of the way, his throat tried to close up when the phone was finally answered, his brain tried to purge itself of all information when the receptionist asked for his name. Why was this happening? He was so close, why now? After what felt like way too long and far too many questions he had the appointment set.

He slouched back in his chair, exhausted. Friday, the appointment was Friday. He had four days until this appointment. Well, four days, two hours, and eleven minutes. But the receptionist on the other end had said to be there early for the intake questionnaire so no, he didn’t have that much time.

His groan filled the study as he threw his head back.

* * *

Four days had not been long enough to prepare for this, not at all. The office Dr. Reese worked in had four others working within it. He wasn’t sure their exact occupation but he really couldn’t care less, not when it felt like everyone was looking at him. All three of them. Looking up proved they weren’t even looking in his direction, all focused on their phones or the TV. It gave him little peace of mind.

There were far too many question on this form he decided, far too many. He understood their purpose but why did they need so many? He focused on his breathing, ran through an old technique he’d learned years ago before he returned to the form in front of him. There was no need to worry, it was just a form, just some “rate on a scale of one to five” questions, it wasn’t that bad really.

He returned the form to the receptionist and then reclaimed his seat. By the time his name was called he was an uncharacteristic bundle of nerves. The journey to her office was short, something he was immensely grateful for as she shut the door. It was a small space, the walls trying to make it smaller as he sat down. Dr. Reese must have noticed because in the next moment the blinds were opened, allowing sunlight to enter and push the walls back. 

“Alright, how about we get started,” she said with a kind voice as she took a seat.

Be honest, he begged himself as he felt his walls begin to rise. For the love of god Bruce, for the love of your children, be honest.

* * *

> Entry 1
> 
> Dec. 21
> 
> Dr. Reese has tasked me with documenting via this journal things that happen each day as well as my emotions towards these events. She believes this will give me the chance to process any negative emotions and actions so we can work through them more efficiently. I admit the idea seems far fetched, lack luster even. It feels like a waste of time, time that I could be spending on other more important things. Then again, Alfred pitched this same concept to me years ago. I’d been little more than an arrogant child then, and as such I scoffed at the idea thinking it was stupid.
> 
> I suppose I’m the stupid one if my current situation is anything to go by.

* * *

> Entry 2
> 
> Dec. 22
> 
> Nothing of importance happened today. W.E. is still running as usual. Lucius has made some improvements to our grapple equipment. The line should be able to extend farther while still holding my weight. Final round testing begins tomorrow, we are expecting a success.
> 
> It has been almost a week since I spoke with Damian on the phone. I want to talk to him again. I want to speak with the others as well, but I am unsure of the social protocols or ques associated with these kind of non-business phone calls. 

* * *

> Entry 7
> 
> Dec. 27
> 
> Gotham has only gotten colder over the last few days. As a result the rooftops are becoming even more coated in snow and ice. I hope the others are wearing their winter suits when they go out for patrol. Diana may traverse Gotham in a leotard and skirt but they most certainly can’t.
> 
> The holidays have come and gone and while we’ve never really celebrated any of them for their religious significance it has always been a time where everyone comes together. Perhaps I could achieve something of that nature for New Years. I am not confident that is possible unfortunately.

* * *

> Entry 12
> 
> Dec. 31
> 
> Today is the New Year’s Eve party. The League has been throwing it basically since its inception. While I may dislike how much of a ruckus everyone makes as they drink to a stupor it has proven to be good for moral and relations among the League’s members .
> 
> What I do not appreciate, however, is the look Clark keeps giving me. It is a strange mix between Ace begging for a treat and pity. He has undoubtedly already heard of my current situation thanks to Jon’s relationship with Damian. If he has something to say then he better just say it. He had no problem voicing his opinions the last time we saw each other, I don’t see how this is any different. Thanks to John Stewart leaving three days ago I have one less semi-normal person to occupy my time with. I suppose J’onn will have to do.

* * *

> Entry 13
> 
> Dec. 31
> 
> I may have scared J’onn away. In the process of our conversation Clark moved into my line of sight, once again with those annoying looks. J’onn must has sensed my anger as he left with the excuse of a headache. I will need to look into ways to dampen my mental output so this does not happen again. Perhaps Lucius could develop some kind of telepathic jammer or coating for the cowl.

* * *

> For how annoying Clark is being at least his son has some manners. Jon as always is the best parts of each of his parents rolled into one. He wanted to know if Damian could stay at his house for a few days. Even after I told him Dick would have more say he persisted, saying it was only proper. Truly a fine young gentleman. Although, he’s never been this persistent in getting my approval before. What are he and Damian planning on doing I wonder?
> 
> Well, if his father would just follow his lead and GROW A PAIR that’d be wonderful.

* * *

> Entry 16?
> 
> Jan. 1
> 
> I got to speak with the boys during the party last night. It was awkward as could be expected considering how we parted last. That said at some point I apparently started stress drinking. I haven’t legitimately done that in years, not since my 20s. Thankfully Dinah and Ollie managed to pull me away from the party before it got too bad not that I can remember much of it. I would offer to get them something but Oliver’s wealth almost matches my own. I’ll deal with it later, for now I have to deal with this hangover.

* * *

> I don’t know what entry number this is anymore. Honestly I don’t think it really matters, this isn’t meant to be documentation of anything. If anything Dr. Reese thinks it might be good, that I let this one thing go instead of obsessing over always having it perfect. It’s akin to exposure therapy I suppose, taking something I am normally in complete control of and then just take it out of the equation.
> 
> I told her I was Batman. She didn’t even try to look surprised. She already knew, of course, her job is to keep others’ secrets and help them work through the problems associated with them, of course she already knew. I almost don’t want to approve her as a therapist for the League just so no one else can talk to her. It’s a selfish idea, but one I realized I was actually considering on the drive back to Gotham.
> 
> Damian would have started school this week. I wonder how that’s going for him. Duke and Stephanie’s classes don’t start up for another week, I hope they’re taking advantage of it. They all wanted to see that new movie that just came out, maybe I can convince everyone to go together.

* * *

> The movie was absolutely atrocious. I swear half the damn thing was CGI. Have they never heard of practical effects? I understand that finding an actual meta human to play the part of the lead actor might be difficult but come on, were they even trying? And by god I don’t know which was worse, the villain or the ham-fisted love interest. Who honestly believes she was carrying that much in her pockets? I have known Stephanie and Barbara long enough to be well versed in the outrage that is women’s pants and their lack of pockets. Don’t give me that shit.
> 
> Note to self: subdivision of W.E. focused on clothing? Needs to be affordable but still functional while also being fashionable. Talk it over with Lucius Monday
> 
> Cass has decided she’s going to learn to fight in heels. Knowing her she’ll be a master within two weeks. Stephanie has decided to join her. I’m a bit more concerned for her to be honest. The two of them are supposed to stay in the manor tonight to practice after they get shoes with Barbara. At least there won’t be any broken chandeliers this time. I hope not anyway.

* * *

> We had the League meeting today. Kyle Rayner was there as expected. His presence caused me to remember my fruitless search for Jason. I’ve been feeling this spike of guilt ever since then, likely due to the fact that I have lessened the amount of time I spend searching for my son. I recall that Rainer and Donna Troy once worked with Jason although I’ve never learned the full details of their time together. None of them were willing to divulge that information when it happened. I assume Hal or John told him of Jason’s disappearance prior to his return to Earth, it’s the only reason I can think of for why he’s so morose. He might not be the loud mouth social butterfly that Hal and Guy portray themselves as, but normally not so quiet let alone tense. He barely interacted with anyone for the whole three hours I saw him.
> 
> Perhaps it is nothing, but I’m getting a strange feeling with him, like he has the key to Jason’s whereabouts. I don’t know where this feeling came from or what caused it but without any proof or Tim telling me he has the same suspicion I am willing to file it away as my mind playing tricks on me. For now, I have other things to worry about.

* * *

> Clark dragged me out to dinner today, no Lois or Diana. Somehow he managed to find a place where I wouldn’t be hounded by reporters or fans. It hasn’t happened as much recently but it’s still annoying when it does. It was...nice. We haven’t sat down and just talked in months, not as friends at least. I missed it.

* * *

> Damian and Duke have been bouncing between the manor and the city. Dick hasn’t set foot near the manor since he left but I’m willing to overlook that to appreciate the others’ presence again. I’ve been trying to be more open with them in the ways Linda suggested, take more interest in what they’re doing and what their interests are. Thus far it seems to be paying off.

* * *

> Damian laughed today, not for Dick or Cassandra or Alfred, he didn’t laugh in cruelty or pride. He just...laughed, pure and joyful. Titus had sneezed, the big lug. Thankfully he wasn’t near anything or he might’ve hit his head off a table. Snot and drool flew around the room and some managed to hit me in the forehead and that’s when Damian snorted then fell apart. It’s honestly one of the greatest sounds I’ve ever heard. 
> 
> He’s been so much calmer lately, happier like a child his age should be. Then again, I suppose he’s not really a child anymore, not at the rate he’s been needing new clothes. Lord, my youngest child is thirteen, he’s a teenager now. I feel so old.

* * *

> The session went well today. Linda was concerned about my health due to the news from Gotham this morning. Harvey had a new shipment coming in last night. I was caught in an explosion in one of the shipyard’s warehouses. I could have gotten out on my own I’m sure, but in that moment my mind had frozen. It didn’t feel like I was in Gotham. All the cold of January was gone. It felt so much hotter. The sky seemed to morph between day and night and all I could feel was this fear that I was too late. I don’t remember much outside of that panic. Dick managed to pull me out with Duke’s help. 
> 
> Everyone slept in the entertainment room last night. I needed them to. Every time they left my sight this need, this panic took over, this thing telling me that something would happen to them if I wasn’t right there.
> 
> Even just going to the appointment on my own was difficult.
> 
> Linda says these kind of panics are normal for my...experiences, that she’s surprised this is the first noticeable flashback I’ve had since we started talking over a month ago. She says it’s normal but I’m not so sure.

* * *

> Damian agreed to create a new portrait for the family. He’s been sketching out different versions since I talked to him about it. It will take a while to finish but I’m sure it will be amazing.

* * *

> Roy Harper has moved into Gotham. It appears he brought his daughter Lian with him. Dick asked that I not approach them. I assume he wants to be the one to speak with Roy concerning his presence here. Arsenal hasn’t been seen in the few days since he moved in although that isn’t saying much. I’m unsure of how to deal with this development. On one hand he could be a valuable asset against Gotham’s rogues, on the other hand he is an outsider and has made it clear he has no reservations about using lethal force.
> 
> I wonder if Lian has been enrolled in school yet.

* * *

> Alfred said he’ll come back next week. He left Gotham to visit family in England. I tried telling him he should stay longer and enjoy himself but he is adamant about returning. The only caveat was I do something first. He wants the plaque from Jason’s case removed. Really it’s something I should have done a long time ago, back when Alfred first mentioned it. But I’d been so angry, so in denial that I couldn’t believe the Red Hood was really my Jason. Some days I’ll see his picture from back then, from before, and I forget he came back. I know it’s wrong, I know that he is the same person as the adult Jason that I’ve spent the last few months searching for, but they’re just so completely different. I don’t know how to fix it, I don’t know how to change these horrible thoughts, and I’m not entirely sure how to approach the subject with Linda. I can’t imagine what she’d say about the case, what it shows about me. Either way, it comes down tonight.

* * *

The cave was, as always, cold when he made it off the stairs. As could be expected the bats were sleeping and thus offered little noise. It was the middle of the day after all, it would be weird for them to be awake.

The tools were in their usual location, the screwdrivers and the power drill, the bits and the cords and the dollies. They’d accumulated a fine layer of dust since the last time he’d used them, he could only hope they still worked. Moving to the case felt like the lead up to an execution. His limbs felt heavy as he pulled the box of tools with him. As usual the case didn’t move away. If anything it stood its ground, taunting him for even entertaining the thought of removing it. How an inanimate object could seem so alive he’d never know.

Before he could start he heard a scuffle by the stairs. Finding Cass there, he knew the sound had been intentional.

“Everything alright?” He asked as he set the drill down. She moved to him, eyebrows drawn as she looked between him and the case.

“What are you doing?”

He paused, trying to figure out the words to describe exactly what this would do. Then he remembered who was asking the question and knew he didn’t need to. “Removing this,” he said as he pointed to the plaque, “and moving everything else.”

She turned back to the case, staring as though trying to find an answer there. Is that what he looked like when he stared at it? No wonder everyone wanted it gone. But Cass looked sad too, almost like she was in mourning.

“Cass, sweetheart,” he said as he placed his hand on her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“Made him leave,” she said pointing to herself.

Shock hit him like a wrecking ball. “What? No, no you didn’t. I know, not in a million years would he have left because of you.”

“But he-I told-I-“ her eyes scrunched up as she held her head.

He grabbed her wrist, pulling her close to his chest. “Ssh, it’s okay, it’s going to be okay, alright?”

She shook her head, hands balled in his shirt. “I read him, he wants your love and, and acceptance. I read you, read what you try to feel, what you think you feel. Believed was helping him. He wanted your love. I tell him you feel love. But that is, it is wrong. It is mani-manipulative yes? Like showing Ace treats then giving them to Titus. Or getting mad when he wants them. I know it is not my inte- I do not mean to but maybe I used love like treats. You only get if you listen and do as we say. But we may not want to give them to you.”

Bruce held her tighter, resting his head atop hers. She’d been one of the few people that Jason would talk to and vice versa. While Cass was better with the rest of the family she didn’t really have any friends outside of it. Jason of course was the reverse. They acted as that middle ground for each other. She had honestly thought she was helping him, that she was acting as that bridge to the family. Without Jason there they had no way of knowing how her words had been perceived. From Jason’s point of view, from the person treated like the black sheep, like the outcast, would it have really been a gesture of kindness or one of manipulation? They couldn’t possibly know. 

He rubbed circles into her back, the case looming over them in judgement as he tried to think of what to say. When nothing came he kissed her forehead, hoping she understood. Finally she leaned back, eyes flickering to the case.

“When he comes back, what if he not want to stay? What if he does not want our love anymore?” She sounded so heartbroken. It reminded him that for how old she was, for how many horrors she’d seen, in so many ways she was still a kid inside just like the rest of his children. Missed childhoods seemed to have a way of coming back for revenge in his family, and always at the worst of times.

“Then we’ll handle that when we get there,” he said, tucking a strand of her hair behind an ear. “Jason has the right to make his own decisions. We need to respect that. Me especially.”

She smirked, eyes crinkling as she tapped his head. “Getting better.”

“At a snail’s pace.” He returned her smile before leaning down to pick the drill up again. “Do you want to help me move this? I figure it should fit in with Dick and Tim’s old suits.”

She nodded and they set to work.

* * *

> It is done. The plaque is gone. I melted it down so it can be reused for something else, something better. The case and suit were moved. It now stands between Dick and Tim’s old Robin suits. It feels more fitting this way, like a memorial of growth rather than death.
> 
> Dick actually smiled when he saw it. I can only hope Alfred will be just as pleased. 

* * *

It had been so long since a child had set foot in Wayne Manor. Perhaps child was too broad a term. A child younger than ten years old would be more precise. The last person in that position had been a nine year old Dick Grayson nearly twenty years ago.

Hearing giggles down the hall brought a smile to Bruce’s face. The quarterly reports from Wayne Enterprises could wait, it was almost time for dinner anyway. Leaving his study behind he was pulled into a game of cat and mouse as the giggling darted around him. He tiptoed down the hall, following the sound down the stairs to where he could see a small pair of feet peeking out from around the corner. He jumped down, slid around the corner, and pulled the bundle of giggles to him.

Lian squealed as he picked her up, legs kicking as her giggles turned to laughs. After a few moments she finally calmed down. She booped his nose, smile stretching across her adorable face. “Found you Mr. Bruce.”

He chuckled as he set her back down. “That you di. Now, I can’t quite remember where the dining room is but it’s almost supper time and I’m _so_ _hungry_.” He feigned confusion, his Brucie voice managing to take over as he batted his eyes at the girl. “Would a sweet young lady such as yourself be able to help me?”

Her giggles kicked in again as she grabbed his big hand. “Yeah yeah. Come or we’ll be late.”

By the time they made it to the dining room everyone else had beaten them there.

“Watch out Roy,” Tim warned as Bruce lifted Lian into a seat, “you know what happens to unattended black haired children in Gotham.”

“Oh trust me, I’ve noticed that pattern,” Roy assured as he pushed Lian’s hair out of her face. “This one already has a dad she’s perfectly happy with though.”

“And an Uncle Jay,” Lian added. “He gets first dibs.”

“Uh, first dibs on what?” Tim asked, looking thoroughly confused as did Dick next to him. 

“I see what I’m worth here,” Roy said, completely ignoring Tim’s questions. “I guess you just don’t want any ice cream on the way home tonight.”

“No no no, you get first dibs, you, _then_ Uncle Jay, and _then_ Mr. Bruce.”

“But what about your Aunt Kori? I thought she was on that list? She’s gonna be so upset when she finds out she got kicked off.”

“No no, Aunt Kori comes after Uncle Jay. She’s just on Tamaman so she can’t call dibs right now.”

“Tamaran sweetie.”

“Tamaran.”

Bruce took his seat at the head of the table as the two continued their conversation to the confusion of everyone else. As it turned out, Roy had moved into Gotham with Lian so he could take a more hands on approach to protecting Jason’s assets across the city. In the three weeks since the archer had moved in, Arsenal had remained unseen as a vigilante. As far as Bruce was aware he hadn’t even touched a bow and arrow since he’d arrived. Though based on the repeated sightings of a hooded figure working within the Red Hood’s territory down in the Narrows and the Bowery, it was safe to assume he was doing some kind of work. But as much as he wanted to find out what he was doing, he wasn’t willing to risk Dick’s ire. His son had been working to patch up their friendship and from what Bruce could see he had been successful thus far. They wouldn’t be over for dinner so much otherwise.

He had to admit that in his bid to find Jason he’d completely ignored all of his son's work and everything he’d left behind. With Roy and Lian there it was near impossible to miss it. The signs down in Crime Alley, the words spray painted on walls, the questions in the eyes of Gotham’s citizens, they all asked the same thing: Where is the Red Hood?

Crime had mostly stayed stagnant in those areas, something that left Bruce with more questions than answers. It wasn’t like anyone patrolled a lot of that area so what was going on? Surely it wasn’t just a case of less crimes being reported to the police. Even taking the time of year into account it shouldn’t be this low. Bruce was starting to think Jason had a larger network than he’d been letting on.

“Oh my god are those your cranberry rolls!?” Dick exclaimed as Alfred began to set the food on the table. He was practically vibrating in his seat.

“Yes Master Dick, but you must first eat your vegetable, you know the rules by now.”

Dick’s groan pulled more laughter from the table.

* * *

> Damian has made amazing progress on the new portrait. He’s been throwing around different compositions and sketches for so long, but now that he has one everyone has approved of he’s been painting nonstop. Watching him work is amazing. I’ve never really had much of an interest in art outside off that of a casual observer so I have no understanding of how he’s managed to make everyone and everything so clearly recognizable. There’s no question of who is who, no guessing with the colors. He has such amazing skills with this. I wonder if Talia knows. I can’t imagine the League of Shadows or his grandfather have much respect for artists.
> 
> He said he should have it done by my birthday. I can’t wait to see it completely finished. The others are sure to love it. 

* * *

The battle had been long and hard, even with the added help of an extra Green Lantern. Kyle had been given additional time Earth side, but apparently that was coming to a close if Gardner’s appearance had anything to do with it.

Bruce couldn’t decide if he was more relieved or annoyed that it was him and not Jordan.

Either way, an alien invasion was an alien invasion and it had to be dealt with. Having an additional intergalactic enforcer on their side was always a bonus no matter how annoying most of them were. In the end the invaders were dealt with and Kyle had been tasked with taking them to whatever judgement awaited. 

Bruce on the other hand found himself stuck in the medbay stitching up the cut in his leg as the Big Blue Boy Scout tried to lecture him on being more careful, the hypocrite. Like he hadn’t tried to attack their leader even after Kryptonian was added to the mix. The mdebay’s door opened and for once his savior was wearing green.

“—all I’m saying is that you’re being careless,” Clark was saying. At Bruce’s raised eyebrow he groaned. “Ugh, you know what I mean! You’re throwing yourself in harm’s way without a care in the world. You don’t have powers, you don’t have invulnerability, you don’t have a Lantern ring—“

“Aye, Big Blue,” Guy cut in as he grabbed Clark’s shoulder.

“Guy how are you?” He turned to pull the other into a hug, all signs of his earlier lecture gone. “Good work out there.”

“Good good. Hey, listen, I’ve gotta head back to Oa like super quick. We’re expecting an uprising out in 2237 so I don’t know when me and the boys are gonna be back. Simon and Jess are around so unless they get called in they’re your go to guys ‘til further notice.”

“Are they aware of the situation?” Bruce asked from his place behind Clark.

“Yeah, contacted them before I came here. Probably best to call ‘em tomorrow to make sure everyone’s on the same boat.”

Bruce’s eye twitched. Did Guy really think they couldn’t figure that out on their own? Like they wouldn't be able to know to call the two without his guidance. He pushed the thoughts down, Linda’s soothing voice running through his head. It’s okay for others to take the lead, you don’t always have to be in control, don’t always have to be in charge. Just breathe. It all felt like bullshit but he’d promised her he’d try.

“Will do,” Clark said. “Anything else before you head out to the great unknown?”

“Yeah, need to talk to the scary one about somethin’ real quick,” he said motioning for Clark to head out.

“If you can say it to me you can say it to him too,” Bruce said before Clark could take a step towards the door. Something felt off about the way Guy had said that. Bruce wasn’t willing to take a chance, especially not while he was injured. Clark sent him a confused look, but he moved to stand beside him. 

“Can’t say I didn’t try,” Guy shrugged with an easy smile. That smile turned hard, however, as he asked, “What’s your deal with Jason Todd?”

Bruce’s lip pulled into a snarl, a growl escaping his lips as Clark grabbed his shoulder. “What did that imbecile Jordan tell you?”

“Just answer the question. You have no idea how difficult it was to make Hal stay on Oa while I did this. So tell me, right here right now, what’s the deal between you and Jason Todd.”

Bruce’s hand clenched as he glared at the Lantern, fire burning in his eyes. Gardner was more than lucky he wasn’t the one with laser vision. “Jason Todd is my son,” he growled.

“Who happens to still be missing,” Clark cut, with a disapproving tone. “Seriously Guy, show some respect.”

Guy met Clark’s eyes only for a second before turning back to Bruce, dismissing the Kryptonian. “If Jordan were here you’d already be a piñata batboy. I’m halfway considering the idea myself. But I’m not here for that.”

“Then what the hell are you here for?” Bruce demanded.

He paused for a moment to just stare at him, to look at Bruce and his snarled lip and his burning eyes filled with rage and hatred. Guy’s smile morphed into something much more serious as he finally gave his answer. “I know where he is.”

Bruce was at his throat in an instant, teeth bared like a madman. “Where?”

Guy looked back at him, calm and collected in an odd sort of reversal for them. “I can’t tell you that.”

Bruce slammed him into the wall. Clark stormed up behind him. “Guy, where is Jason?” he demanded.

“Safe. He asked me to check in, make sure you guys weren’t losing the plot, all that normal shit.” He pushed Bruce off of him.

“The others, do they know?” Clark asked as he pulled Bruce behind him.

“Jess and Simon have little to no idea what goes on off of Earth, not unless they’re up there with us.”

“So Jordan, Stewart, Rayner, they all know?” Bruce asked.

“Yes. We’re looking out for him. He’s doing great by the way, not that you could be bothered to ask.”

“For fuck’s sake Guy be serious,” Clark reprimanded, arm tight around Bruce as the other tried to wiggle free.

“I am more than serious right now.” He stared at them both, smile returning to his face even as his eyes remained cold as stone. “He wanted me to check on you guys and let you know he’s okay, because he doesn’t know when he’s coming back yet. There’s a lot of new shit happening for him right now. But Imma tell you one little thing. When he comes back, because trust me he will, you’re gonna be sittin’ down, and you’re gonna shut your trap, and you’re gonna listen to what he says. There’s a lot of really fucked up assumptions that you and everyone else have been making. So when he decides to talk and be real with you and all your little batlings, you better be ready to actually listen to him.”

He pushed off the wall moving to the door.

“Who the hell do you think you are?!” Bruce roared. The only thing keeping him from lunging for Guy’s throat was Clark’s iron grip.

“One final thing,” Guy said, completely ignoring the question. “If you hurt him again, physical, emotional, you try that asylum or prison bullshit again, you won’t just be dealing with his archer friend or the Tamaranean princess. You’ll be dealing with me, with me and Hal and John and Kyle and _so_ many more you won’t even know what hit ya. And I can’t promise we’ll leave you in one piece, understand? Good, now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go prepare for an alien uprising.”

Guy left, leaving a snarling Bruce and an angry Clark behind. Once he was out of earshot Clark relaxed. By then Bruce had shifted, the emotions warring within his head as he continued to stare at the door. He clenched and unclenched his fists over and over, teeth grinding as he tried to hold onto his anger because what was behind it was so much worse.

“Bruce, are you alright?”

No, no he wasn’t alright. His missing son had apparently been found but even then he was still out of his reach. If Guy and the other Lanterns knew where he was then it was no wonder Bruce couldn’t find any traces of him. Jason wasn’t even on Earth.

And Guy being the one to tell him, to know just the words to say to make it hurt. Guy with all his past experiences wielding different Lantern rings. This was worse than he could have ever imagined.

“Bruce, Bruce come on, talk to me, please. We’ll figure this out okay? We at least know he’s alive, that’s what’s important.”

But was it really though? His son, who had one of the most beautiful smiles even if he never showed it, whose laughter had once filled the empty halls of the manor, who once upon a time had been able to see the good in everyone until death had sunk its claws in.

His legs gave out a split second before Clark caught him. He slammed his fists into the ground as he yelled and screamed until his throat turned raw.

His son, whose eyes had once shown blue with hope, who had once been filled so much love and such a longing to do good, was a Red Lantern.

* * *

Epilogue

The edge of sectors was always a weird place for Kyle. From what other Lanterns had told him, he wasn’t the only one. The space where one sector ended and another began was always a muddy issue. Where did they actually end? Whose jurisdiction was it? Why was it always empty and devoid of all living planets? There were some planets near the edges, sure, but they were almost always uninhabited, overrun with the planet’s vegetation, or if they were inhabited, it was by some kind of mercenary or power hungry wannabe warlord.

It was exhausting.

He finally caught a break as he saw Guy’s familiar glow approaching.

“Hey, sorry I took so long. Things took a bit longer with you know who,” he said as he came to a stop beside Kyle.

Kyle nodded before they started floating in the direction of Oa. “Was it really a good idea to tell him we know where Jason is?” 

“Would you prefer he keep moping for however many months it takes for Jason to go back?”

“I would prefer you not give the guy more ammo for his assumption canon.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Guy, seriously? He knows Jason’s not one of us ‘cause everyone would know by now if he’s a Green Lantern. Also, from what you and Hal said after your trip to Zamaron he’s a wee bit heavy handed on certain assumptions about Jason’s emotional and mental state.”

“Come on,” Guy groaned. “He knows there’s a second Star Sapphire, he knows it’s a guy this time. Sapphire showed up at the same time the kid disappeared, easy peasy lemon squeezy. It couldn’t be more obvious if it slapped him in the face. You’re tellin’ me Mr. World’s Greatest Detective can’t figure that out?”

“That is exactly what I’m saying. The bats like to throw that great detective shit around, sure, but the minute emotions get brought into the mix they’re done for.”

“Seriously Kyle? Big Blue was there when I told him, he’ll set him straight.”

“Guy, not to be a dick or anything, but you _do remember_ you were a Red Lantern not so long ago, right?”

“Yeah, so?”

“So you being the one to tell him his missing son, who he hounds about killing and murder, is in space?” Kyle swore he was about to slap him. No way was anyone this completely stupid.

“I don’t see what that has to do with—,“ he came to an abrupt halt, eyes wide when Kyle looked back. He slapped a hand to his face as he grimaced. “Ah fuck. Ya think I could run back and like, leave a note or something? Ya know, like ‘hey, FYI he’s not a Red or a Yellow Lantern, don’t worry’?”

“They’d just assume he’s an Orange if you did that shit, that or an Indigo which might actually be worse.”

Guy let out a long, overly dramatic sigh. “We work with a bunch of idiots.”

“You’re telling me,” Kyle agreed. He turned and started flying again. “Now come on, we’ve got an uprising to prepare for.”

Guy caught up with him, smirking. “ _I’m_ getting ready for an uprising. You on the other hand are getting ready for a date.”

“Excuse me? What the hell are you talking about?”

“Well, maybe date’s too specific a word for you two right now,” he said, shit eating grin shining bright at Kyle. “But you and Jason are gonna be spending some quality time together out in 1713. Ruling families are having a bit of a Romeo and Juliet situation, only the families arranged their marriage but one of ‘em’s off shagging the pool boy.”

“And the Guardians are sending us because…?”

“Test for Jason. Also, figure since you two have worked together before it might be easier for you than it would be for someone else.”

“Uh, that was a while ago Guy. And we didn’t exactly get along then.” 

“Yeah? Well White Lantern, you’ve experienced the Sapphire’s powers, you’re better attuned to help him. And besides, clearly what this situation _really_ needs-“

“Guy don’t you dare.”

“—is the power of love—“

“I will slap the ever loving shit out of you—“

“—it’s a curious thing, make one man weak—“

Guy swiftly evaded the hammer construct aimed for his head, laughing before he started singing again even more dramatically than before. “What is love? Baby don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me—“

Kyle’s cries of outrage rang out in the dark emptiness of space.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the first part that doesn't have Jason in it at all which feels weird, especially after the last part, but I think it'd feel disingenuous on my part for Jason to return to Earth in a later point of this series and for everyone andbe all hunky dory everything's fine without showing some kind of attempt at character growth on the batfam's part, especially with Bruce.  
> For anyone interested, I'm on tumblr [ do_not_careissa ](https://do-not-careissa.tumblr.com/)  
> 


End file.
